


Perpetual Dreamscape

by orphan_account



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Gen, M/M, Multi, depersonalization - derealization, trigger warning: mentions of mental illness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-27
Updated: 2015-01-27
Packaged: 2018-03-09 07:09:43
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,547
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3240848
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Not two minutes later, their conversation starts to seep through the thin walls and not-so-quite-closed door. It's not like Zayn's trying to evesdrop, but he doesn't really have anything else to do at the moment, and as soon as he hears his name being spoken of, he's interested.</p><p>"Okay, I'm sorry. Don't you think it's kinda weird having your ex sleeping on our couch though?" It's Ben's voice first, but it sounds like he's not trying very hard to keep their conversation between the two of them. "Do you think he'd want to sleep on that couch if he knew what-"</p><p>"Ben!" Harry whisper-shouts. "Zayn is having a hard time, alright? It's been like this for a while with him and I want you to make him feel welcome." </p><p>It's been like this for a while with him?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perpetual Dreamscape

**Author's Note:**

> side note: 
> 
> I'm coming at this oneshot with a bit of background knowledge and personal experience on the topic, but please let me know if anything in this offends or maybe even let me know if you liked this story? :) 
> 
> There's a bit near the middle that's loosely based off a really interesting scene from a movie called Numb.
> 
> side note 2: i tend to skip around a bit when i'm writing, so the timeline might change quickly, very sorry but if you follow along closely you might be able to catch up :)

" _Are you even listening to me_?" 

 

Those are the words that snap Zayn back into reality. Now that he's here, though - he thinks he'd much rather be back in his imagination. Anything to get away from the continual and accusatory shouting that was happening outside. In the real world.

"Sorry?" His voice cracks through the second R but somehow he recovers. He clears his throat with a closed fist covering his lips.

Callista was her name. She and Zayn had been going steady for long enough to exchange flat keys, and that's exactly how they got here. Callista was a lovely girl, and Zayn was careful to never take advantage of that. But on his way back to her - _their_ flat from his night class he forgot to stop by the store and pick up milk and bread like she asked earlier that day, so that's how they got here.

She greeted him with a warm hug that smelled strongly of her perfume and then looked down at his hands, waiting only a moment before asking where the groceries were. Zayn facepalmed quite literally and told her he must have spaced out. "It was my last class of the week, I'm kind of out of it anyways."

Sweet as Callista was, "are you forgetting that I don't have a car right now? Or did you not listen to me when I told you about that either?" She had a bit of a mean streak. "Last week -" She steps away, grabbing her phone from the coffee table, unlocking it and bringing up her calender before Zayn could blink twice. "Taking my car in for service on Monday, won't have it back until Tuesday afternoon."

But that was an hour ago. 

"You always do this!" She exclaims, turning away with her hands covering her face. Her voice was shaky like she was on the verge of tears, and Zayn wanted to leap up and hug her and tell her his apologies, but he knew that wasn't what she needed right now. "Have you talked to a doctor or anything?" She says this timidly. Maybe she was worried she might overstep and hurt his feelings. When she removes her hands and lays them at her side, her cheeks are tinted pink and her eyes are bloodshot. 

Zayn just shrugs and averts his gaze to the wooden floorboards below Callista's purple suede sofa. He knows his mind is trying to slip again, but he knows this is an important conversation to have, despite how little he wants to have it, so he suckers through it and looks back up at his girlfriend.

"What would I tell a doctor? That I space out sometimes?" He furrows his brow. "Right. He'll give me a sticker and congratulate me for being  _normal_." 

That's when Callista snapped. And Zayn doesn't know what he thought that looked like, but it sure wasn't what he expected. She burst out into a fit of sickening laughter, running her fingers through her thick auburn curls like she was trying to rip them out of her scalp. "I can't do this anymore, Zayn. You're making me feel..." 

He stands up from the sofa and whispers an apology, then hands over his copy of her house key, folding her fingers over it like it's some sacred token of their relationship. Maybe it was at some point, but right now it feels like it may just be any old key. 

 

★

★

 

Zayn had almost forgotten how cold the streets could be this time of year, he'd been off them for that long. He was afraid to go outside as of late. Too many things happening at once, and while those things happened people surrounded them. Strangers, more like it.

He didn't really do all that well with strangers. If they smiled back at him when he smiled first he was alright, but if they looked at him like a dirty dish towel... it more or less lowered his self confidence.

It's seven at night, about -5 degrees celsius and just light enough to keep the street lights turned off. He headed in the direction of the closest park he knew of and kept his sight forward. He had one other option besides the park - he could go to his mate's house. Louis Tomlinson. But he always forgets his flat number just as he arrives at the front door, so that's not entirely an option anymore.

The park it is.

Said park was a laughable sized mockery of Central Park in NYC. It was nowhere near the same size, or beauty, but it was familiar enough. Aptly named  _The Park on 17th ave._

 

He stopped on the way and bought a bag of chips from the foodway, and as he stood in line he looked down at the small bag in his hands and was immediately smacked with the memory of him and Callista buying Halloween packs of potato chips just so they could measure the volume of chips versus air in the bag.

It easily could've been a scenario he thought up himself or had a dream about, but he hoped for his own sake that it was a memory.

"Cash or credit?" The cashier said with a yawn, holding the bag up to the scanner. 

Zayn dug into his back pocket to get his wallet, disappointed to find a lack of anything inside of it but a ten and a few loonies. 

"Cash,"

 

★

★

 

The streetlights began to flicker on one by one, bidding farewell to the daylight and hello to the nighttime. 

Zayn sat alone on a bench, holding the chip bag in one hand and a singular chip in the other. He narrowed his eyes and tried to get his eyes to focus on it for the time being, but it was no use. Soon all he was thinking of was the shape of the chip and how unfamiliar his hands looked holding it.

A dog came noisily running up to him, their paws oversized and thumping against the grass and pavement like they were struggling to gain control. Someone was calling out after the pup, but it was all background noise.

Then came a loud snuffling noise and what looked to be a tinted pink snout out of his peripheral vision, and then his potato chip was taken away and eaten in what sounded like no bites at all.

"Paul Anka!" 

Zayn squinted at the distance, seeing a figure run towards him in haste. Who was Paul Anka? Zayn looked down at the dog and raised his eyebrows. This must be Paul Anka.

Whoever was running caught up in no time, leaning over and placing their hands on their knees to catch their breath. They laughed loudly and collected their dog's leash from the ground. "Sorry about that, mate. I was just checking my phone for a second, really, and then before I know it this little guy is off running." 

His grin fades when he notices Zayn hasn't yet reacted, instead staring at his empty hand in disbelief. Was the potato chip really there in the first place?

"I'm Niall. This is Paul," The boy gestures down to the what looks to be beaming dog. "I'm sure if he could speak he could apologize for being such a brute.." 

"It's no trouble, really." Zayn says finally, "He got a good snack out of it." When he looks up again, the boy is smiling, so he does aswell. "I'm Zayn."

Niall nods slowly and wraps the leash around his hand and wrist a few times to get a good grip. "Any particular reason why you're sitting on a park bench this late?" Late might be a bit of an overstatement, unless a lot of time has passed since Zayn left Callista's apartment... and he wouldn't doubt it. But he hopes it's not late enough that he might have to resort to sleeping on the cold metal of the park bench.

"I was just... out for a walk, I guess." 

Niall walks around the bench and sits down on the opposite end, pulling Paul Anka up onto his lap. The puppy looks about ready to fall asleep. "Same here. I don't really have a yard for him, so I took him here for his nightly walk. I think he enjoys it a bit, especially when he gets to snack on stranger's potato chips." He chuckles, and Zayn can't really help but do the same, it's so contagious.

Callista used to have a dog before Zayn moved in. She belonged to her old roommate and she was a little four year old corgi named Ms. Peanutbutter. Whenever Zayn came over for a visit she used to run to greet him, her little stubby legs trying so hard to lift her off the ground long enough to get her front paws on Zayn's knee caps. 

Just looking at Paul Anka made Zayn feel a little melancholic. He couldn't help it, more or less breaking up with your superwoman in disguise girlfriend does things to you. Especially minimal hours later. 

"Are you always out this late?" Niall asked, running a hand over his puppy's spotted head, scratching behind his ears. It was kind of an odd question to ask someone you just met, but Zayn wasn't in any position at the moment to deny a bit of social interaction. "No," He sighs, bringing a hand up to cover his eyes. "I kinda just kicked myself out of my ex partner's apartment." 

There's a long pause after that, broken shortly by a small squeal that followed Paul Anka's yawn. Zayn uncovers his eyes and leans back on the bench, admittedly a bit confused at Niall's contemplative expression. He was looking down at the grass below the bench for a while before he acknowledged Zayn again. "Okay," He started, setting Paul Anka back down on the ground. "I would never do this on a regular basis, and i don't know why I'm doing this now, but I've had a friend go through... that before, and he seemed really upset and in need of some emotional support so," He sighs heavily and then smiles kindly, "Do you want me to drive you somewhere?"

Zayn would love to say yes, and he's ready to, but if he does then he'll have to have a location to be driven to. And he really doesn't have one, unless he goes crawling back to Callista's house and asks to sleep on her couch or something. That's definetly not an option right now. 

 

Eventually he decides, accepts and ends up at his old apartment. Where his now (not recent, have you) ex ex-boyfriend Harry still lives. He greets him with a gentle smile and a warm hug, much like Zayn remembers, then invites him in and notably hastily insists Zayn stay on his couch until he gets back on his feet. 

It's an incredibly odd yet incredibly kind gesture, and Zayn appreciates it, even as he settles in with his head beside a framed picture of Harry and his fiance.

 

★

★

 

"Do you want anything to drink?" Harry asks, looking into the living area from behind the kitchen island. He's tying his hair up into a topknot and trying not to give away any evidence that he might want to know all the details and reasons as to why his ex boyfriend showed up on his doorstep at midnight.

Zayn smiles lightly from where he's sitting and shakes his head, his eyes only leaving the blank screen of his phone for a moment. He doesn't want to miss a chance at talking to Callista, maybe apologizing for just walking out instead of trying to solve things.

Soon enough, Harry joins him on the sofa, leaning against him with the slightest of pressure, as if he thinks Zayn might tip over and shatter. "Give it time, love. When she's ready to talk she'll talk."

Zayn's thoughts are racing, and suddenly the world is going on without him, the front door opens and Harry's fiance Ben wanders in from his job as a secretary at the local radio station. Harry might as well have sprinted over to him at the pace he was going, throwing his arms around the man and peppering his face with kisses. 

They laugh and whisper to eachother for what seems like hours before they leave the foyer and head for the living area again. Zayn sighs and sits back, rubbing his hands over his face. 

Ben sits beside him and offers him a smile that verges on the possibility of force. "Hey mate, nice to see you. Sorry about the missus. Real pity, that is. She was a beauty too, wasn't she." He sighs, undoing his tie until it's just hanging over his neck. "Hopefully you'll be back in your own place soon,"

Zayn just looks at him blankly and then up at Harry, who smiles apologetically like he's a parent and Ben's a kid who just asked a man with long hair if he was a lady. "Ben, sweetie, the invitations came in the mail this morning. Why don't you come take a look?" He places a hand on Ben's shoulder and gives him a stern look when they make eye contact.

Not two minutes later their conversation starts to seep through the thin walls and not-so-quite-closed door. It's not like Zayn's trying to evesdrop, but he doesn't really have anything else to do at the moment, and as soon as he hears his name being spoken of, he's interested.

"Okay, I'm sorry. Don't you think it's kinda weird having your ex sleeping on our couch though?" It's Ben's voice first, but it sounds like he's not trying very hard to keep their conversation between the two of them. "Do you think he'd want to sleep on that couch if he knew what-"

"Ben!" Harry whisper-shouts. "He's having a hard time, alright? It's been like this for a while with him and I want you to make him feel welcome." 

_It's been like this for a while with him?_

 

_★_

_★_

 

It's five in the evening by the time he gets to the street outside Callista's flat. He doesn't plan on going inside, despite how much he wants to. To talk to her, or see her, hug her. He wants to be somewhere familiar, to wear the clothes that shared a closet space with her's. 

His phone rings and momentarily breaks his trance, and he accepts the call and holds the device up to his ear without checking the caller. "Hello?"

"Hi!" It wasn't Callista, or Harry. Or his cousin, or even Ben. It was a voice he not even slightly recognized. "Who is this?" He turned to face away from the apartment building, looking across the street to the aray of townhouses decorating the street, each a different colour, oddly different looking in the dark hue of the streetlamp. 

"It's Niall... from the park." He pauses, then laughs to himself. "You fed my dog a potato chip!"

 

_★_

_★_

 

_"I got your number from the phone book, hope you don't mind. Wasn't hard to find either, what with the miraculous lack of Z Maliks in the area." He chuckled nervously, and Zayn could tell he was biting at his cuticles._

_He runs his fingers through his hair. "I don't mind at all, I'm sorta glad you called anyways.."_

_Niall gasps in mock horror. "Sorta? That's all I get? I saved you from Paul Anka the destroyer! I should get some gratitude atleast." Then he laughs and Zayn can't help but laugh aswell. He didn't think dad jokes would be funny in any situation until he got to this point._

_"Are you doing anything right now?"_

 

_★_

_★_

 

What felt like two hours turned out to be three, and the night was approaching at a snail pace. He found himself back at Harry's apartment and on the couch with a questionable history so it seems, staring at the ceiling with his palms laying flat on his stomach. 

Him and Niall exchanged phone numbers properly and took Paul Anka for a stroll around the neighborhood, stopping at every fire hydrant and lamp post for the inevitable. The small chat became lengthy conversations about verging on pretentious things, and Niall's university major, but then gradually slowed back down into monotone small chat.

Zayn didn't notice he wasn't really contributing until the dog had to stop again and Niall spoke up. "Are you alright? You're really quiet." 

He nods and tucks his chilled fingers into his pockets, letting his legs carry his body wherever they happened to go. "Just listening. I'm not so good at this, not like other people are." Niall doesn't seem to understand, but the way he bumps his shoulder against Zayn's in a playful way makes it seem like he's trying his best. "Good at what? Small chat? Not everyone's good at everything."

"No." Zayn says, "I mean just... doing this in general. I haven't come across a whole lot of people who enjoy just talking while I listen."

Paul Anka barks at the sight of another dog coming their way, a husky with one bright blue eye and one dark brown. It looks unimpressed glancing at the puppy, and keeps walking down the sidewalk with it's owner. "It sounds like I zone out a lot... from what I've heard." He laughs, but it's half-hearted, shaken. "That's probably why no one thinks I listen to them."

 

Now he has Niall's number in his phone, sitting right infront of that damned picture of Harry and Ben, smiling brightly at eachother on the trip they took a few months ago when Ben proposed. Harry told Zayn all about it, without doubt leaving in every single detail. Not with malice, but because he's just the kind of person to go into detail about good experiences.

The two of them went to bed before Zayn got back, leaving him with an odd sense of disownership looking at his old apartment. It was dark albeit the nightlight in the main hallway, giving a light glow to everything within a certain distance from it. Everything was just like he remembered but different, same arrangement of decor but different furniture. 

As weird as it sounds.

 

_★_

_★_

 

_"I promise the next time we see eachother I won't bring Paul along, I think it's becoming a bit of a trend." Niall says, his voice cracking near the end and forming a laugh. "I think he likes you though, but then again he likes everything right now.. but I like you, and-" He stops laughing and narrows his eyes, blue even in the subtle darkness of their surroundings. "I'm weirding you out, aren't I?"_

_Zayn shakes his head with a small smile._

_"Okay." He nods once, regaining a happy grin. "Well maybe in the meantime we can figure out that shyness problem of your's, shouldn't be too hard to shake."  His eyes crinkle at the corner when he smiles big enough, Zayn notices, taking a bit of time to process just what was told to him. Niall had turned around and began walking back down the street, his hands tucked into his pockets._

_Shyness problem? Why is it a problem?_

_"What if I don't want to?" Zayn calls out, frozen in place._

_Niall stopped in his tracks and turned around, his eyebrows raised. "What if it's like this forever?"_

_The blonde shrugs and smiles a little. "Then it is. No shame in that, but I was just saying.. you talked about it like it was something you wanted to cope with. Maybe I misheard, but..."_

 

_★_

_★_

 

It might be after six in the morning, but since Zayn stopped wondering, he stopped checking. His phone is ringing, playing a song from Palo Alto called Ode to Viceroy.

He doesn't remember setting that for his ringtone, but this is only the second time someone's tried calling him, and despite the time he has no plans on ignoring it. He unlocks it and holds the phone up to this ear, sitting up on the sofa. "Hello?"

"Zayn, oh my gosh, Zayn. I'm so glad to hear your voice."

"Callista?"

She sighs contently, and Zayn can hear the smile in her voice. "Where have you been staying?"

Someone clears their throat from behind the sofa and when Zayn turns his head he sees Harry standing infront of his bedroom door, dressed for the day but with wet hair. He raises his eyebrows expectantly and mouths 'who is that?' until Zayn gives in and says 'Callista' back to him.

"I'm at Harry's."

Callista laughs shortly. "You mean your ex's house? Isn't he engaged or something?"

Apparently news travels faster than he thought. "Well, y-yeah, but-"

"You didn't have to leave!" She says. "I mean I totally understand if you needed some time to figure some things out, but it's been a week, man. There's a thin line between being within reason and doing something completely unnecessary." He's sure she doesn't mean it, but he's starting to feel somewhat stupid. He knows she's right but there's definitely a reason why he left. Maybe because every week it was the same argument, followed by a brief "recess" and then it started all up again.

The time before this, he had started it. He heard Callista talking on the phone with one of her friends, upset because she found a pill bottle in Zayn's shaving bag that was for anti-psychotics. When she found out he was home she bid her friend a hurried goodbye and asked why he had these  ** _drugs_  **in her home.

"They're prescription." 

"So is adderall! Kids still use that to get high!"

-

" _Zayn!_ " She exclaims. Suddenly Zayn's conscious mind is back in the living room, looking at a different floor under a different sofa. 

Callista is wonderful. Always comforting when Zayn's sad, and he tries to do the same for her. But she just doesn't understand, or she might just not want to. 

 

He hangs up not too long after that, and sits idly on the sofa, not looking at anything or thinking about anything in particular but how long he's gone not thinking twice about why his relationships and friendships never really worked out to full potential. Why he hasn't talked to or seen his family in over a year. 

His therapist thinks it might be travel anxiety. Maybe it's more common than he thinks. But then, maybe it's not.

"Hey," Harry says softly, sitting down next to Zayn and placing a gentle hand on his shoulder. "Have you thought of going home for a bit?"

Zayn looks up at him, his eyes narrowed. "I'm kind of there, Harry." 

"No no." Harry replies and joins his hands together. He has more tattoos on his arms and hands than Zayn remembers last, but then again so does he. "I mean go back home. Go see your mom and dad, I'm sure they'd love to see you again."

He smiles and smiles and smiles, and Zayn stares and stares and stares. 

 

_★_

_★_

 

"Zayn? Is that you? Zayn!" Mrs. Malik's face was a little too close to the webcam, but she was beaming all the same. "Oh my dear boy, how've you been?"

Zayn nods and adjusts the camera slightly, holding his hands together so he wouldn't play with his fingers anymore. "I'm fine, mom. How are you?"

They talk for what feels like hours, but is really only one, halfway through Zayn's father joins in and sits so close to Mrs. Malik that he's basically pushing her out of the frame just so he can talk into the camera. "How're your troubles coming along, bud?"

Mrs. Malik cuts in, clearing her throat. "It's just anxiety. That's all it is, nothing to worry about." By the end of it he feels a bit better, like he's accomplished something recommended to him. Something that wasn't impulse, or a point taken off his conscience. 

When he leaves the kitchen with his laptop under his arm Harry beams, "Skyping isn't really the same as an in-person visit, but it's close enough!" He pulls Zayn into a crushing hug. "I'm proud of you, buddy."

 

It's been a week and two days.

_★_

_★_

 

Niall lives on the second floor of a house he shares with a boy called Liam Payne. He's a little taller than Niall and a little shorter than Zayn with buzzed brown hair, thick eyebrows and a smile that could melt a heart. He shows Zayn  _'Chocolade haas'_ on youtube and then somehow gets onto the topic of him being able to play trumpet.

The blonde just watches from the doorway with an apologetic gaze and eventually excuses himself and Zayn and they both go upstairs. "I'm so sorry about that," He says, looking over his shoulder as they walk up the flight of stairs. "He's a great guy, real sweet. He just likes to test people's opinions on him the first time they meet him."

His home is cozy and lovely, decorated with odd knick knacks and memorabilia from different sports teams. On the outside of his front door is a signed flag of Ireland. The white stripe is almost completely filled up with names, and Zayn is stuck between being envious and happy for him. To have that many friends that are willing to hold a sharpie for more than a second to sign your flag... that must be what it feels like to be a millionaire.

"Have a seat," Niall says, leaning over on his way into the kitchen to scratch behind Paul Anka's ears. So he does, and the dog jumps up after him, situating himself in his lap.

Zayn looks around again, pushing his back into the padding of the sofa. "Do you collect all this?"

The blonde laughs loudly from where he is in the kitchen, walking back out seconds later with a beer in each hand. He hands one to Zayn and then flops down next to him, sitting cross-legged. "You bet. My dad and _fucking-_ sorry- brother take me travelling with them and I like to buy something to keep the memory there."

"Where have you been?" Zayn asks quietly, then clears his throat and asks again in a louder tone, twisting off the cap of his beer and taking an experimental sip. He's decided he doesn't like beer.

"Oh. Ireland, America, Australia... wherever the good games are, I'm there. Running out of funds, though. Won't be able to do that much longer." Niall shrugs and takes a drink. There's music playing lowly in the background that was most definitely not there before. It's soft and almost.. romantic. But you never know what you're gonna get with a playlist. "How about you?"

Zayn sighs, setting his bottle down on the coffee table, bringing his legs up onto the sofa with him while he thinks. "My parents live in Bradford, so I've been there quite a lot. Been to Pakistan too. Islamabad, Lahore." 

Niall seems quite impressed, his eyes wide and a bright grin on his lips. He lifts the bottle to his mouth to take a drink, but lowers it again so he can get a word in. "That's amazing."

Paul Anka barks and nuzzles his head into Zayn's side, prompting him to lift the puppy up and onto his lap properly, telling him how adorable he is. "You're insanely cute,"

That's different.

"Cute for an insane person?" Zayn retorts playfully, moving the dog off his lap again. But Niall laughs at his response and shakes his head. "Nah, just cute. Cute on an insane level."

That's definitely different.

 

"Are you hungry?" Niall asks after a little while, setting his beer down aswell. "Do you want to go get something to eat?"

 

_★_

_★_

 

Zayn orders a salad with roasted chicken and different types of fruits and nuts, while Niall orders a hamburger and pretends he has mind reading powers for the sake of a few laughs. Zayn's face hurts from smiling but he doesn't really mind at this point.

Then they talk and talk and argue over who's gonna pay for the meal, then they split it and Niall drives Zayn back to Harry's. 

As they stand at the doorway Zayn scratches the back of his neck, he's been fumbling with the key for a few minutes and he doubts it doesn't have anything to do with his current anxiety. "Do you want to come in for a bit? My um, Harry - well, he's not _my_ harry... he's Ben's Harry - well... they're on a date and so.."

"Yeah, sure. If that's alright." 

As expected, the place is dark and quiet, a note on the whiteboard by the front door saying they'd be home late so go ahead and eat without them. Zayn's already one step ahead. "Do you want anything?" He asks, gesturing to the fridge once they reach the kitchen.

"What'cha got?" Niall takes a seat on one of the barstools, leaning his elbows on the counter. 

"Um," Zayn opens the fridge door, taking a long look inside for anything that isn't organic. "We have pasta.. no sauce -" He sighs, closing the door again and standing up straight. "Would you like me to make you some pasta?" 

Niall chuckles softly and rests his cheek on his hand. "That's nice of you, but we just ate."

"Right." Zayn hums, internally cursing himself for not remembering that. "How about some water?"

"Water sounds fine." He`s still smiling, adoringly even. 

 

_★_

_★_

 

That night as he's getting ready for bed, a horrible feeling sets in. Unaware of what it is or where it came from, he's trapped in his own racing thoughts.

But then, he understands.

He went on a date, didn't he? He went on a date with someone he just met a week or so ago, while Callista went about her life. Perhaps this wouldn't be a problem if he had some closure on their relationship. Were they broken up? On a break?

The dimly lit living room is gradually making him acknowledge his situation in more and more detail. Not at all what he wanted or expected.

Zayn just wanted to know, to understand.

 

He can feel the house shaking, but his eyes are closed too tightly and his blanket is wrapped too snug around his body.

There's a ringing in his ear, an incessant noise of reminder. This isn't how it's supposed to be.

He'll wake up in a few hours, in the wrong place. Without going back to sleep this time, either.

Then maybe he'll realize that the shaking was actually from him.

 

_★_

_★_

 

Callista always takes a little longer to answer the door. 

She yells out beforehand that she'll get there in a minute, and then literally takes a minute to get there, opening the door usually with a toothbrush in her mouth or a book tucked under her arm.

This time she answers with her lips still attached to the rim of her coffee cup, smiling brightly from behind it. "Hey," She says oh so casually, lowering the mug.

Zayn smiles gently and returns her greeting, before being invited inside. The place looks a little different.. maybe brighter. "Are you here to pick up your stuff? Do you have your own place now?" Callista sets her mug down and rushes into her bedroom, returning seconds later with a large cardboard box in her arms. "I hope you don't mind, I separated all our stuff. If you want me to give you back the stuff you gave to me -"

"No," Zayn says, his eyes trained on the box. "That's okay, they're for you." And she smiled, small, but genuine. 

 

That was that. He was officially moved out. Homeless maybe? He did have a car, but the last time he saw it was the night of his and Cal's fight. It's probably still sitting idle in the underground parking lot. 

He learns that moving out is a lot more difficult than he expected with only one box. Although heavy, it appeared light as a feather. The large objects like clothing and books on the bottom and smaller things like toiletries and such on the top. He wondered if this was all he took with him when he moved in, or if most of the stuff he thought he owned was actually Callista's to begin with.

Disownership comes flooding back. Slowly but surely. 

 

-

He stops by his therapist's office first and foremost, apologizing furiously that he showed up without an appointment. The doctor doesn't seem bothered, in fact he seems pleased to see him after all this time of rescheduled appointments.

"I think I might really like someone,"

Doctor narrows his eyes. "Is it Carrie?"

".. Callista? No, it's.. we broke up." Zayn looks down at his hands, unfamiliar sitting in his lap. "I met someone new."

 

 

Niall Horan with his thick Irish brogue and stitched up knee.

His laugh was a little too hard, but at the same time it really wasn't. What's a laugh if it isn't genuine and personal. 

Then Zayn with his dark brown hair and eternal love for all things artistic; or what his older sister would call "socially unacceptable" with a playful grin and a slap to his shoulder.

 

Maybe he was the thing he needed to snap him out of his own thoughts

 

**Author's Note:**

> I made so many mistakes ugh. Forgive me 
> 
> I'll try to fix them up :)


End file.
